In a Line in a Song I Once Heard
by Here But Not For Long
Summary: Tony couldn't stop thinking about that stupid Instant Pot as he looked at Tali for the first time. {angsty, Tony-centric missing scene blurb from 13x24)


A/N: The fic's title comes from the same place as the opening quote, "Words I Couldn't Say" by Rascal Flatts. This is set somewhere midway through episode 13x24.

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"What do I do now that you're gone? No backup plan, no second chance, and no one else to blame. All I can hear in the silence that remains are the words I couldn't say." - _Words I Couldn't Say_ by Rascal Flatts

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Senior had an Instant Pot, a ridiculous kitchen gadget that Tony figured was no more than a glorified rice cooker. Senior, however, was obsessed with it, and at least once a week, he'd insist on Tony coming over to eat whatever he most recently made with it. It was a pressure cooker, the sort that could probably explode if you left it cooking too long.

Tony couldn't stop thinking about that stupid Instant Pot as he looked at Tali for the first time.

He, too, was home to a building pressure, conflicting and overwhelming emotions and shocks vying for the forefront of his thoughts. He knew that like the cooker, he was in danger of blowing his lid if the pressure didn't find some way to release.

Strongest was a feeling of crushing grief; deep down, he'd always believed that Ziva would come home. She'd find whatever emotional fix she was seeking, no matter how long it took, and she'd come back. They'd repair whatever else had been broken by time and distance, and things would work themselves out. Now that was never going to happen.

Right behind that grief was a deep, burning anger with the very woman he was missing so strongly. _How _could she keep their daughter a secret from him? He'd be the first to admit that he wasn't great with children, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have been by Ziva's side every step of the way if he'd known, figuring out the whole terrifying new challenge together. He knew now, looking at Tali, that his own kid would be different. He might not know what to do with her, how to comfort her when she cried, what to feed her, how to bathe her, how to potty train her or teach her to talk or any of the other thousand things that Ziva would have had two years of practice with… but he looked at that little girl and knew that none of it mattered. His worry didn't matter. All that mattered was the slightly fearful face of a tiny human who had just lost her entire world.

Then there were his feelings for Tali herself… there was a budding joy somewhere in his chest, a fierce and protective sort of love seeding itself in the very fabric of who he was. He didn't need Orli Elbaz to tell him that this was his child; he could feel it, and he was _glad _for it. Out of all of today's feelings, this one was the most simple and the most profound.

Later that day, when he was faced with the challenge of bedtime for the first time, he found his release.

The relatively happy Tali had turned a corner the more tired she got, and it wasn't long before she was in full meltdown mode. Even Kelev couldn't calm her; Tony cradled her in his arms, tucked her little head into his shoulder, and cried with her as she reached one small opening and closing hand out into the air, saying "_Ima!" _over and over again. She was sad and scared, but then again, so was he… maybe their broken hearts could fit together somehow, and they'd get through this large hand in little hand.

When Tali finally fell asleep hours later, it was draped across her exhausted father's lap as he sat on the sofa in his apartment petting her hair. He didn't see any way that he'd be falling asleep tonight himself, but it turned out that comforting Tali was a big comfort to him.

He started thinking again about the fact that Ziva was gone, permanently taken away with no chance of a return. This time, though, his grief felt productive; he realized he could channel all of this into the care of their daughter. He'd never told Ziva exactly how he felt, not in so many words, and now he would never have the chance to… but he could tell Tali. His initial flash of anger at Ziva's deception had already faded in the wake of the realization that she'd left him an incredibly precious gift.

In the dark at three in the morning, speaking to the back of Tali's head felt like whispering into a church confessional. "I don't know how to do this," he murmured, still gently brushing through her hair with his fingers. She didn't stir. "I'm afraid of messing up, and you deserve better. But you've got me no matter what, kid, and I guess I've got you, too." He sighed. "I loved your _Ima _very much. I think she knew that… just like I hope you know that I love you even more. Silly, isn't it? I don't even know you, and you don't know me, but I would do anything for you. Anything. I just hope you'll forgive my mistakes, 'cause I'm kind of making this up as I go along. I promise to never stop trying, though, and I'll never stop loving you."

As he talked, he let his eyes fall closed, and eventually, he drifted off to sleep, still sitting upright on the sofa. He dreamed of walking along the Seine with Ziva and Tali, the three of them forming a line of held hands with the littlest family member in between her parents. The Paris skyline was probably pretty, but Tony couldn't drag his eyes away from his girls for long enough to check it out.

He woke later in the day with a much greater feeling of peace. This was the start of a terrifying, wonderful journey.


End file.
